


Touch

by hollyblue2



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 24/7 Dom/sub, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Dom!Cas, Domestic Discipline, Falling In Love, M/M, Modern AU, Rimming, Spanking, Sub!Dean, ace!cas, character injury, gentle!Dom Cas, hurt!Dean, mentions of bondage, no dick penetration, past abuse (non graphic), punishment spanking, semi-public scening, touch starved!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 08:40:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20112277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyblue2/pseuds/hollyblue2
Summary: After Dean’s injured during a scene with an inattentive and, in hindsight, abusive dom, Dean decides he’s done with being a sub for anyone.Then he meets Castiel in a bar and he helps Dean out. Dean can tell from his years of being a professional sub, that Castiel is very much a Dom. They spend a casual night together and only meet again when Dean crawls back to Purgatory and finds Castiel there.Only, Castiel isn’t looking for any sub, he’s looking for a domestic discipline relationship. Dean’s been a sub for too long to deny that it’s something he’s thought about in the past and he tentatively decides to give it a try on the basis that it’ll be casual sex only, but it’s not long before that begins to change.





	1. Spilt Beer

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the Destiel Harlequin Challenge. We claimed a pre-written summary that was from a Harlequin book. The summary that I based my fic on can be found in the final endnote. 
> 
> It took me a long while to finish this fic, it was initially claimed as a minibang, but then it got longer... so now it's here and that's thanks to Cassie for soundboarding with me near the beginning to get things straight and in order, to Serenity who gave it a brief read through, and gave me feedback on my main art piece and, thanks to Sanne who read this when it was at 10k and I got stuck in a rut, she was able to encourage me massively and also did the amazing job of betaing for me too! 
> 
> The Writers of Destiel discord have also been fab throughout the process as has the Harlequin discord, Bees helped me with the shadows on my art :D 
> 
> So on we go before I ramble on too long...
> 
> P.S. yes, Cas is ace, though he likes giving pleasure, but doesn't like receiving it himself, nor does he particularly get aroused from it... he just enjoys making Dean (and subs in general happy)

* * *

Belatedly, Dean realises that buying two beers at the same time is a bad idea when his shoulder is still exceedingly painful. He can barely drive with the useless joint, let alone carry two drinks across the bar. Dean thanks the bartender, watching him walk away and serve another customer, before he looks back to the two glasses.

He sighs. Two glasses in one hand might work, sacrifice some beer on his fingers, risk the glasses falling to the floor. Clutching them against himself, risk spilling beer over his jacket—no, he doesn’t want that.

A man sidles up next to him and he takes an instinctive step to the side, not wanting someone to crash him. He’s taken all the pain meds he can and yet, the pain of the dislocation still hasn’t subsided, he’s not even convinced that Alastair reset it right. He thought about going to a hospital, but he doesn’t have insurance or that much money, not to mention they’ll ask how he did it. He could lie, but his greatest idea so far is that he fell, and there’s no way in hell he’ll tell the nurses that his Dom tied him up so awkwardly that his shoulder dislocated.

It’s certainly thrown his trust towards anything like that out of the window for the foreseeable future.

“Do you need a hand?” The low, rumbly voice comes from the man who’d come up beside him earlier and Dean turns to him.

He’s met with a shock of dark hair, five o’clock shadow and eyes that would give the bluest ocean a run for its money. Dean instantly feels an air that he’s familiar with, that he’d been surrounded with ever since he turned twenty-one.

_ No _ .

He promised himself that he wouldn’t walk back into that trap, not again. Not after Alastair.

“Nah,” Dean says, stepping forward and plunging fingers into his beers and letting them clank together as he picks them up. He holds his other arm against himself, willing the crowded bar to part a little so he could grab the empty seat in the corner that he’d been eying since he walked in. He doesn’t need help from a stranger.

“Okay,” the man says and it’s merely a mumble as Dean concentrates on getting himself across the bar.

The wooden floors are sticky, people are milling about, laughing and moving. One of the glasses slips a little from his fingers, but Dean manages to tighten his grip in time. It’s not enough when a woman barges into his side.

He bites down hard to keep from calling out, something he’s mastered over the years to please different people, and the glasses drop from his hand. There goes a hard-earned ten dollars.

“Here.”

Dean looks up and sees the same man again standing next to him, holding the two glasses in his hands.  _ How? _

“I saw it happening, you weren’t quick enough to react but I managed to grab the glasses. Let me help.”

The man is insistent and Dean’s about to outright refuse him, but the pain in his shoulder is getting the better of him and he nods.

He follows the man to the table and sits down, breathing hard.

“Thanks, man.”

“It’s no trouble, you… look like you’re in pain. You should have someone look at your shoulder.”

Dean huffs. “It’s fine. It doesn’t need looking at.” What stranger even suggests that when they’ve seen each other for all of three moments in a bar.

“Well, I’m a qualified doctor, if you change your mind,” he explains and okay, so that’s reasonable, but it doesn’t make it any better. He can deal with his shitty shoulder with pain meds, beer and hope.

Realistically though, it hurts like a bitch.

The man hovers for a moment too long and Dean can feel the itch to yell at him to leave him alone but instead, he surprises himself.

“Look, man, take a seat or fuck off, stop hovering,” he says, looking up to the man again. From this angle, he looks a little different from Dean’s first impression of him. He can see that the stubble is less scruff and more kept short, his face is angular and his shoulders are stiff, a long tan jacket hangs off him like it’s not his own – not that Dean can judge, he still wears his dad’s old jacket – and the slacks he’s wearing seem a little too formal.

The man must have noticed Dean checking him out as his lips quirk up a little, but he doesn’t say anything and slides into the seat opposite Dean.

“Castiel Novak... Doctor.” A hand, Castiel’s left in a gesture of kindness to Dean’s disastrous right shoulder, is thrust towards him. Instinct is to give his right hand like usually, but he hands his left to Castiel instead.

“Dean Winchester... uh... car restoration specialist.” His usual  _ professional sub _ remains far back in his mind but he has to fight not to say it.

Castiel hums appreciatively and takes a sip of whatever fruity looking cider he has. Dean doesn’t know what the guy is looking for, a drinking buddy or a quick lay? Not that Dean is capable of the latter at the moment without pain.

They drink quietly with one another and after his two beers Dean’s beginning to relax and the pain in his shoulder is beginning to lessen with the lack of movement.

Castiel gets up once he’s finished and brings them back two more beers each and Dean’s silently grateful that he didn’t have to go through what he did earlier. It doesn’t negate the fact that he doesn’t need charity or pity.

He fishes into his back pocket and grabs ten bucks, sliding it across the table towards Castiel. “Here,” he says and watches as Castiel rolls his eyes. “No take-backs,” he insists.

“This isn’t high school, Dean. Take backs don’t work, but I will keep the money if you so wish.”

Dean gives him a small smile before he turns his eyes away from the intense gaze and takes a drink. He decides right then that Castiel is after a good lay and perhaps he fell short when he came across the only person unable to give that in this bar. Four beers is enough to loosen his lips against his will and he clutches his bad arm against his chest as he reaches out his other hand to rest next to Castiel’s.

“You wanna go somewhere quieter?” he asks. It’s not even loud in the bar but the buzz in Dean’s ears suggests otherwise.

Castiel remains passive and Dean’s less hopeful that Castiel came over for sex.

“I can do you a deal,” he suggests, one eyebrow cocked.

“What’s the deal?” Dean wonders inquisitive. He’ll never turn down a good deal, especially the sexy kind. He spent most of his younger rears trading one thing for another, deals are his second nature.

“You take me home, let me look at that shoulder, and I will give you a blow job in return. I’ve been told I’m good at it,” Castiel says and Dean considers it. On one hand, free appointment and a blow job, on the other, he still doesn’t need charity.

“A blow job ain’t gonna cut it,” Dean counters.

He let Castiel think for a moment and watched as his face turned to concentration, brow furrowed just a little.

“Do you like being rimmed, Dean?” Castiel asked, voice low as he leans forward. His tongue pokes out and swipes over his lips.

Dean nods slowly. “Yeah, okay. You got a deal.”

Dean had ended up walking to the bar, having planned on getting drunk, so they hail a taxi and Dean gives the driver the address to his apartment. He doesn’t even feel the usual shame of showing someone his one-bedroom apartment. His bedroom is tiny, just enough for a bed alongside a closet, and the rest of the apartment is a single room except for the bathroom.

It’s not as if he spent much time here. He often found himself at a dom’s house when he wasn’t at work.

Castiel follows him through the door and Dean gravitates towards the couch.

“I want to look at your shoulder before I dole out any rewards,” Castiel says and his voice holds that same commanding tone that all his doms have had in the past. So much for escaping it. He must be a magnet for them, or perhaps there’s a bright neon sign above his head declaring that he’s a sub to be fucked. “Sit on the couch, do you have any ice?”

“In the bottom drawer of the freezer,” Dean tells him and then Castiel is toeing off his shoes, shrugging off his jacket to reveal a dark suit jacket before heading to his freezer.

He hears the man sorting some kind of ice pack out before he comes back over. He’s not expecting the gentle touch to his chin as Castiel perches on the coffee table and it makes his insides shiver.

Alastair has only been gone for a week and yet Dean’s practically salivating over the slightest touch. He’s pathetic.

“Just... look at my shoulder please,” Dean says quietly, even though he doesn’t want Castiel’s touch to end. Castiel pulls away and Dean fights his natural instincts to follow.

“Of course.” Castiel seems a little stiff over his reaction but he smiles and the air around him turns almost professional. “Let’s get your shirt off.”

There’s a lot of pain, a lot of holding in cries and they both take it as slow as Dean can handle, but eventually, Dean’s bare-chested in his living room sat opposite someone who says they’re a doctor. Perhaps he should ask for some kind of proof, but he knows he’d rather just get this over with.

“It’s dislocated, or at least, it was and it’s definitely not in the right place.”

“Oh,” Dean replies dumbly, after Castiel essentially confirmed what he imagined had been the opposite. “Anything you can do, doc?”

Castiel thinks for a moment before seemingly deciding there’s something to be done and standing up.

Dean looks up to him, unable to discern what’s about to happen when Castiel places one hand on his chest and the other on his back.

It’s hard not being able to melt into his touch, his large hands feeling warm on his back and chest, but he gathers pain is coming and he braces himself.

“Keep calm, Dean. Breathe.” The words flow over him, reminding him of a sweet talking dom he’d met before.

Castiel’s hands ghost over his shoulder and the one on his chest runs down his right arm.

“Thank fuck for alcohol,” is the last thing Dean hears before he hears his shoulder set back into proper place. Dean feels a lightning flash of pain before it settles.

_ Fucking fuck!  _ Dean’s mostly sure Castiel has just ripped his arm off, he’s grateful for less pain but he keeps his eyes tight shut and can hear himself hyperventilating.

“—Dean! Stop. Look at me, now.” The words are commanding and Dean’s age-old instinct kicks in and he stops, he looks and focuses on Castiel. His blue eyes are intense, wide and looking across his face. “Good,” he says, softer.

“Don’t.” Dean’s warning seems to confuse Castiel but he doesn’t elaborate on the matter. “Thanks,” he says, still.

“Have you got anything we can use as a temporary sling?” Castiel asks and Dean has to think hard for a moment.

“I have a pretty big square towel, will that work?”

“Perfect,” Castiel says and a small smile appears on his face.

“Uh, bottom drawer in the dresser of the bedroom, don’t go snooping.”

Castiel huffs a little laugh. “Of course not.” Dean’s not in the mood to explain the box of kinky items he also has in that drawer. “Keep your arm still until I get back.”

He disappears then for a couple of moments and Dean keeps his position on the couch. He feels sober but he knows that he’s probably still buzzed and only alert from the pain Castiel just put him through.

Castiel comes back holding the hot pink square towel, folding it into a triangle.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a hot pink kind of man,” Castiel comments. He sets the towel on this lap as he takes the ice pack he made earlier and presses it against Dean’s shoulder. The ice is searing in comparison to the hot ache that’s currently there.

“I’m not, someone I used to—” Dean gasps. “—sleep with bought it for me. Said I looked good in pink.”

Castiel removes the ice pack and then expertly ties the towel into a sling and gets Dean’s arm and shoulder positioned how he needs.

“Well, they certainly weren’t wrong,” Castiel tells him and Dean can’t help but blush. “Though I think white would suit you just as well.”

Dean shrugs with one shoulder. “Can I have my blow job now?”

Castiel laughs lightly. “Ah, the insatiable kind,” he says and Dean just rolls his eyes. He may enjoy sex, a lot, but that doesn’t make him insatiable... right?

“It was a fair trade and after that much pain, I hope you’re fucking good.”

“Demanding,” Castiel says with a smirk. “Who says you get to tell me what to do?”

“My house, my rules.” It feels unnatural but empowering and right to take control for once.

“So be it, bedroom?”

Dean nods and rises to his feet gingerly. He’s glad that he can at least walk now without his shoulder twinging with every step.

“Sit on the edge of the bed,” Castiel tells him and Dean goes willingly, the sheets crumpling around him. Castiel drops to his knees before him and Dean takes a quiet breath in. It’s been a very long time since anyone has knelt before him and it mostly feels wrong but he knows that this is good.

He needs to move on after Alastair, separate his life from what he meant to Dean. What had started off as a two-way relationship ended up veering off to a one way street with Alastair racing up the wrong way. The more he thinks about it, the more he realises, too late, that Alastair wasn’t a good person and it took a dislocated shoulder to realise that.

“Hey?” Dean looks down to Castiel, waiting patiently. “You still okay for me to do this? We can stop if you want.”

“No, I’m fine. I was just thinking about... things I shouldn’t be thinking about.” Dean deflates, relaxing his shoulders and then forcing a smile on his face.

Castiel’s brow raises in question about his certainty and Dean smirks. “Come on, you promised me a blow job,  _ and _ you said you were amazing. So  _ please _ give me a mind-blowing orgasm,” Dean begs and he watches as a grin graces Castiel’s face.

Oh god, Castiel likes it when he begs. This is going to go downhill very fast and very beautifully. Well, if Castiel wants begging then that  _ is _ something he excels in.

Castiel’s fingers reach for his flies and slowly undoes them.

“Please, Castiel...” Dean’s legs are nudged apart by Castiel’s shoulders and then he pulls the waistband of his boxers down until Dean’s cock pops out, long and already mostly hard. “I want your mouth on me so bad. I need it.” His voice drops low and husky and Castiel’s eyes are lust-blown as he slicks his lips up with his tongue.

“I’m going to give you the orgasm of a lifetime.”

Dean whines and then gasps as a spit slicked hand wraps around his cock, stroking him to hardness. With his other hand, Castiel tears open a condom and slips it on Dean’s cock, a faint whiff of fake strawberry hinting the air.

What Castiel does next is something magical by Dean’s list. Up on his knees, Castiel rests both his hands on Dean’s thighs, keeping them still and spread, and then he tongues lightly at the head where the condom bubble is and Dean can feel it tickling against his head. Dean fights the squirm, shifting his hips minutely to the edge of his bed. Castiel opens his mouth and then takes him right down in one go.

Dean’s insides heat up instantly, and Castiel’s tongue sets to work. It runs over the underside, then around his head, and Castiel pulls back torturously slowly before going back down with enthusiasm. Dean’s hips try to cant upwards, dying for more when Castiel pulls back but Castiel simply keeps a firm hold on his thighs.

He pops off suddenly. “Don’t move so much, I don’t want you to risk injuring your shoulder any further.” His voice is husky, worn from taking Dean’s cock and that alone exacerbates his arousal to a peak he hasn’t felt in a long time. “Now, lie back. We had a deal, didn’t we?”

Dean tries to focus his mind to remember the terms he’d slurred to Castiel in the bar. Right, Castiel’s God-send of a tongue at his ass.

“Fuck,” Dean gasps.

“Not what we agreed to, sorry,” Castiel says and then stands to help Dean lie down on his back. His shoulder twinges a little bit, but he’s quickly distracted by Castiel removing his jeans and boxers.

“Think you’ve got such a smart mouth,” Dean says when he gets his bearings again. He stares at the ceiling, finding the crack in the paint that he knows is there and focusing on that instead of how uncomfortable lying flat on his back is with his shoulder. His legs hang awkwardly over the edge of the bed, at least until Castiel grabs his ankles and folds his legs. Now his ass is exposed for Castiel.

“Hmm, beautiful,” Castiel croons and Dean feels Castiel’s lips against his ass. It’s just a peck, but the praise alone makes his cheeks heat and his insides squirm.

Alastair never had a good word for him so this, this is heart-warming. The more he thinks about Alastair, and how the asshole treated him, he realises that the short hours with Castiel have been so much more fulfilling. If only he’d noticed sooner to leave while he could.

A hand curls around Dean’s cock and a few strokes bring him back from the slight flagging and Dean reminds himself that he needs to remember that this is some random guy he’s picked up, not Alastair and not Cole or Abbie.

This is Castiel, a doctor, and apparently, he’s exceedingly good with his tongue. Said tongue takes a dip inside his hole and the feathery tickle sends a violent shiver through him which only seems to encourage Castiel more and he can feel as a finger joins the tongue and works dangerously close to his prostate.

Dean can hold himself off for a while, he was practically trained to be on edge for hours but he knows that as soon as Castiel hits his prostate he’s a goner.

The finger stays inside but the tongue moves back to his cock. Dean watches as, once again, Castiel takes him down in one go, catching his gaze and holding it. Dean can’t look away as the precipice comes rushing forward. The fingers crook upwards just as Castiel’s other hand presses against his perineum and Castiel’s tongue massages the underside of the cock. Everything all at once makes his thighs tense around Castiel’s shoulders and his hips pull up off the bed. The pressure in his shoulder is superseded by the intensity of his orgasm as it washes over him and he comes. Castiel’s tongue continues to lap at his spent cock and Dean grumbles a little at the oversensitivity.

Castiel pulls off, expertly removing the condom and tying it off. Dean must have closed his eyes as before he knows it, Castiel is positioning him gently further up the bed and is curling into his side.

“I hope you don’t mind cuddling,” Castiel says and he’s smiling when Dean opens one eye to find him practically clinging to him.

“Cuddling is fine. You, on the other hand are an actual octopus,” Dean teases and as if to prove his point, Castiel snakes an arm up his chest and comes to rest at his collarbone.

It feels nice to be this close to someone and not owe them anything... unless...

“Did you come too?”

“No, but it’s fine. It wasn’t part of the deal and I don’t need it to be,” Castiel explains but Dean doesn’t understand, deal or not, it should be a two way, mutual street.

“I can do it, if you want, it won’t bother my shoulder.” Dean’s insistence doesn’t seem to phase a Castiel and the man just sighs.

“I’m fine, Dean. I don’t need you to get me off,” Castiel says and Dean feels tense enough that it bothers his shoulder some. He must have done something wrong, there’s no other explanation for Castiel’s insistence. He can’t even do casual sex right, fuck.

“I... Cas—”

“Nothing you did, I promise,” Castiel says, ending the discussion and Dean guesses that settles it, he’s sure that Castiel knows what he does and doesn’t want. Perhaps pushing him is the wrong thing to do here.

“You planning on staying the night?” Dean murmurs as he begins to feel the pain in his shoulder fade and the need to sleep rise.

“A taxi will cost twice as much now it’s past midnight, I’ll sleep here if it’s alright with you. I’m also happy to take the couch.” Dean turns his head to Castiel with a brow raised.  _ Sleep on the couch? _

“You’re already  _ in _ my bed, there’s no need to move. Plus I make mean maple bacon pancakes, so unless you gotta go, you  _ could _ stay for breakfast. I think I owe you more than you letting me have a good orgasm.”

“Just good? I don’t have to be anywhere tomorrow, it’s my day off, and you don’t owe me anything.” Castiel’s thumb rubs against his collarbone, over the small scar that’s there. Dean wonders briefly if Castiel notices.

“Exceptional,” Dean corrects, finding the best word that fits.

“I’m glad, and I’ll take that breakfast. Healthy eating can stick it for the day.”

Dean chuckles a little and does his best to shuffle them both under the covers in their varying state of awkward undress.

Sleep comes easy until it doesn’t. Just as Dean’s about to fall asleep, a million thoughts rush to him. What if he  _ is _ the reason Cas didn’t want to come tonight; what if he pushed Cas to hard or said something he wasn’t supposed to. What if he’s done this all wrong. What if he’s all wrong. Maybe just because he didn’t tell Castiel explicitly that he was a professional sub, it didn’t mean Castiel didn’t know. Maybe he should have been forthcoming about it. But also, it’s not really the business of a one-night stand. A one-night stand that fixed his dislocated shoulder and is staying for breakfast.

“Stop thinking so much, just relax.” Castiel’s words rumble in the dark and startle him and the hand over his chest begins to rub in slow circles.

“It’s not that easy,” Dean gripes. If he could turn his thoughts off just like that then a whole heap of his problems wouldn’t be problems.

“I know,” Castiel agrees and then there’s shuffling as Castiel leans up and over him, resting on one elbow.

The room is dark enough that all Dean can see is a vague silhouette of Castiel above him and he moves until he’s straddling his hips.

Dean feels himself heat up, the extra body heat mixed with an unexpected arousal.

“I want you to think of something else.”

“I was thinking about you, worrying that I’d done something wrong,” Dean explains honestly.

“Thank you for telling me,” Castiel says sincerely and bends down, pressing a kiss to Dean’s forehead and then his nose and finally his lips.

Dean gets so sucked into the lazy kissing that he doesn’t notice how they’re rutting against each other and how his erection is coming back quickly. It’s only when Castiel’s hands on his chest, thumbing over his nipples simultaneously.

This time when Dean comes, whimpering, eyes half-closed, there’s no condom to catch it and it lands on his chest. It’s a meagre amount after already having come earlier but the sticky mess is still right there on his chest and Castiel draws lazy patterns in it.

All his energy is drained now, thankfully and all his thoughts are begging for sleep. He barely registers Castiel crawling off him, or the tissues cleaning him up and only manages a mumbled “thank you,” before sleep takes him fully.

Dean fully expects to wake up to an empty bed despite the promise he made of breakfast. He wasn’t exactly a fun fuck last night like he assumes Castiel wanted. The guy was probably after some stress relief after a long, no doubt arduous day at work not some half job, broken guy.

Except, when Dean rolls over (remembering too late that he really shouldn’t have moved that way) he finds Castiel clinging to the last inches of mattress. Dean doesn’t take up the whole bed and he knows from past experience that he isn’t a bed hogger so he doesn’t know why Castiel is hanging on to the edge.

Dean climbs out slowly, not wanting to jostle the other man in fear of making him tumble onto the floor. His shoulder is injury enough, he doesn’t need Castiel hitting his head or something.

Instead of climbing back into bed, Dean wrestles the makeshift sling over his head and settles his arm back into it, already feeling relief. He goes over to his kitchen and as quietly as the coffee machine will let him, makes a pot of coffee for them both. He finds his least geeky mugs and sets them out with the creamer and sugar.

It’s not too difficult to make a pot of coffee one-armed, but he doesn’t want to think about the difficulties of making pancakes, so he just pours himself a generous cup of coffee, black and bitter on his tongue.

Leaning against the counter Dean watches as Castiel carries on sleeping, completely dead to the world. Boredom and hunger quickly take over and he pulls a bowl and pancake ingredients from the shelves and cupboards, weighing them carefully. To mix, he traps the bowl between his hip and the counter and whisks away. Problem solved.

He gets the bacon into a pan of butter, dribbling on maple syrup as they cook.

“You weren’t kidding about breakfast.”

Dean jumps, shoulder twinging and hand catching the hot pan of bacon. “Shit, fuck, arghh! I’m fine, ow,” Dean spews and Castiel pulls him away from the stove, dousing his finger under the cold water tap. “I swear I’m not usually as much of a mess,” he explains as if it will help. All he’s proven is that he’s useless.

“You’re fine, and definitely not a mess.”

“Sure feels like I am,” Dean grumbles. Even though he’s more than capable of holding his finger under the water, he finds Castiel’s warm hand holding his own comforting. Castiel’s body brackets his own and he tries not to lean into him. This is just breakfast for a one-night stand.

“Bacon!” Dean calls as he begins to smell smoke from the hot pan. All too soon Castiel’s presence releases him and the man pulls the pan from the stove.

Dean’s finger doesn’t blister as expected and breakfast goes down well, or at least Castiel gives him a slew of compliments, each on making Dean blush.

“What kind of doctor are you?” Dean asks, mopping up the last of the syrup on his plate with a bite of pancake.

“I specialise in paediatrics, but I also run the free clinic when I can,” Cas tells him.

Dean stares at him, impressed. It’s not as if he shouldn’t have expected it, now he knows he can practically feel the kindness and patience rolling off the guy and each time he’s handled Dean’s injuries its been with extra care. He doesn’t feel bad that he’s been treated like a child, he appreciates the sentiment as he bets that Castiel finds it hard to switch that mindset off.

“What about you, Dean? You said you do car restoration, any particular models that you favour?”

Dean grins widely and then reels his emotions back in, he’s sure that Castiel doesn’t need to hear his excitement over his favourite cars.

He sees Castiel’s head tilt to one side slightly and frowns. Clearly Dean’s wearing his emotions plain and clear on his face. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know,” Castiel says and it abates a little of his worry.

“I have a 1967 Chevrolet Impala, black and chrome, 327 four-barrel, 275 horses. Dad gave me the keys before he died, but I’ve been looking after her ever since I could hold a wrench,” Dean tells him. “She’s my baby, but the other cars that come in, they’re honestly just as gorgeous, they’re just not mine.”

“I like to think my own car is a little bit of a classic,” Castiel muses, taking a sip of his coffee.

“What’ve you got?”

“'78 Lincoln Continental, in metallic sand.”

“Gold. You have a gold Lincoln!?”

“I do, I’ve had it about ten years or so,” Castiel says, looking at Dean in a careful manner and Dean tries to work out what the man’s playing at.

“I’d count it as a classic, sure, just wouldn’t say that it was my style,” Dean tells him. Castiel smiles though which means Dean didn’t offend him (or so he hopes).

“My brothers called it the pimp-mobile; I vehemently disagreed.” His voice is flat but the small smirk at the end shows it seems to be a running joke, and Dean can’t help but chuckle.

Conversation with Castiel is easy, light-hearted and a world away from the immense fear he’d felt with Alastair. It’s nice.

Castiel shuffles their plates together and before Dean can object, Castiel is up and setting them by the sink.

“I’ll wash those later,” Dean says, even though he knows full well they’ll probably be there tomorrow morning.

“I should get going, I have chores to do even on my day off.”

“Sure, of course,” Dean unlocks the front door and Castiel grabs his jacket from the back of the couch.

“You should come by the clinic this week sometime, I’ll check out your shoulder again for you, and I can give you a sling that isn’t hot pink,” Castiel says, looping the coat over his arm. He then reaches towards Dean and, unsure of his intentions, Dean flinched backwards.

Castiel doesn’t stop his motions though and untwists the towel a little and instantly the knot that had been surreptitiously digging into his neck disappears.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. “I’ll try and get down, and I think I have a little money saved away.”

“It’s a free clinic, Dean,” Castiel reminds him.

“Yeah, oh... yeah,” Dean laughs nervously and Castiel opens the door.

“I hope to see you soon,” Castiel says cheerfully. “I enjoyed last night.”

“Bye.” Dean closes the door behind the retreating man without another word.

He crashes onto the sofa with a greater force than intended and, now that no one is here to hear him, lets out a yelp as his shoulder erupts in pain.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dean stands back up, opening up the kitchen cupboard and pulls out a pot of painkillers. He downs two with a chug of water and wills them to work quickly.

It seems to take forever for the ache to die down, perhaps because he’s so focused on it but eventually he’s able to relax on his couch without pain. He reminds himself that, really, he should make sure to see Castiel again sometime this week for extra treatment and a proper sling. It would definitely be good if he could leave the house without the bright pink towel attached to him.

Plus, maybe it would be nice to see Castiel again. Last night had been enjoyable, despite the pain. He wishes there had been more than an admittedly epic blow job and a tongue up his ass but he can’t have everything. Technically he hadn’t even gone out to get laid, but he managed it anyway.


	2. Midnight Pancakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first manip is in this chapter! :D (it's the second one I made), I'll be linking the art masterpost at the end of the last chapter!

Three days later, Dean is going stir crazy. There’s barely any food left in the apartment and the small space feels even smaller than usual. He thought about going to visit Castiel at the clinic the day after but didn’t want to seem too eager to see Castiel again.

He should have gone anyway, it would have saved him two drowsy days on out of date pain meds.

Dean takes the bus across town, sitting next to an old lady. He keeps his eyes down, fiddling with the touchscreen of his phone, flipping the home screen from the first to the second slide and back again, but he can feel the woman’s eyes on him, staring at the pink beneath his jacket.

Part of him is desperate to tell her to keep her eyes to herself, but he doesn’t want to make a scene, not on the bus. He just wants to get to Castiel, or to the doctor at the least.

The bus arrives at his stop, and he shuffles past people standing in the aisle, keeping his shoulder to himself.

The free clinic is a small, unassuming building and had Castiel not given him the address, he wouldn’t have known it was there. It was on the corner of a street, with the door on an angle leading him into a small reception area.

A lady at the desk looks up to him and ushers him over. Her dark curly hair falls over her shoulders and she looks up at him expectantly.

“Name?”

“Oh, Winchester, Dean Winchester,” he says and watches as she writes it down in a scrawl that’s barely legible. “Cas, um, Dr. Novak said he would see me.”

She raises a brow at him, and Dean can tell she’s resisting an eye roll. “Did he now,” she drawls.

“Yeah, he treated me a few days ago and asked me to come here,” Dean explains. He doesn’t want another doctor to look at him, he just wants Castiel.

“Meg, stop torturing him, I told you he’d be in soon.” The voice comes from behind Dean and he turns to see Cas, who’s wearing a white coat and a smart blue shirt with no tie.

“Cas,” Dean breathes, more relieved than he expected to see him.

“Come on back.” Castiel smiles and Dean follows him back to a door with Castiel’s name on the front.

Inside looks like any regular doctor’s office, not that he’s been in years, and Castiel offers him the chair next to his desk.

“How’s the shoulder?” Castiel asks, scooting his rolling desk chair closer.

Dean’s automatic response is that he’s fine, but then he rethinks. He has no reason to lie here, and Castiel isn’t going to judge him for not being okay.

“Been hurting, mainly if I get jolted or knock it. Tried taking some pain meds, but they’re expired.”

“You should throw those out.”

“I know, can you give me a better sling?”

“Of course, first I want to check it over, so let’s get your jacket off and your shirt.”

“Getting me naked again, doctor?” Dean quips before his brain has time to engage.

Castiel takes his hands away and sits back, looking at Dean sternly. “I would rather not give consequences for being uncooperative.”

The words make Dean’s legs turn to jelly and his jacket comes off easily, followed by his shirt, which he takes off with more care.

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel says and warmth spreads through Dean. That’s a good feeling, and it’s one that he wants more and more. He vastly prefers them over the cold-hearted slurs that Alastair threw his way.

No.

Castiel is not that person.

He was a one-night stand and his doctor and no more.

He hears Castiel hum and light fingers run over his shoulder, occasionally pressing more firmly. He doesn’t feel much more than mild discomfort though for which he’s glad.

“The swelling has lessened considerably, you seem to heal pretty rapidly.” Castiel pushes his chair away and to the other side of the room where he grabs a large piece of blue fabric.

“Shirt back on, and I can set up the sling and show you how to do it,” Castiel ushers and Dean complies, slipping the shirt back on and then letting Castiel instruct him on how to wear the sling. Already his arm and shoulder are more comfortable. “You can take Tylenol for the pain, just, please, buy some new tablets.”

“I will,” Dean agrees.

*~*~*

The bus ride home, after stopping by the drugstore, is filled with thoughts of Castiel. Over the years of being a sub to Alastair, he’s become perceptive of his own reactions and the actions of those around him. He has the tendency to overanalyse, which has saved him once or twice but more often than not, it has done little more than send him into a horrific spiral.

The night he spent with Castiel and the way that he responded to his threats are just proof that he can’t live without someone’s power over him. It’s not right, he knows that. He’s his own person and he should be managing that. He spent his entire childhood looking after his younger brother, being the carer and ever since Sam decided (somewhat vehemently) that he could look after himself, Dean’s been thrown into the deep end of life without a purpose.

A stopper bell pings and Dean looks up to find he’s gone past his stop. He stands, and makes his way to the front, thanking the driver as he gets off and begins his journey back up the road several blocks. It’s not too cold out, but it’s cool enough for his shoulder to complain at him. He sighs, watching a faint puff of air cloud before him.

His apartment block comes up eventually and he climbs the stairs wearily and decides that as soon as he’s in, he’s getting a snack and then going to sleep. He’s never usually this tired, but between the pain medication and being injured, sleeping and eating seem to be the only things on the agenda.

When he gets into the apartment, Dean takes two tablets with a glass of water and then scarfs down a slice of pizza he had leftover from the other day and carefully lays himself atop his sheets. It often takes him a while to sleep, but today it takes mere moments.

Dean wakes up in the early evening with more energy than he expects. His shoulder seems to have stopped hurting, for now, which is a godsend considering how much pain he’d been in after Alastair had failed at setting it right in the first place. He gets up and wanders about the apartment for a while, unsettled, and tries to work out what to do with himself. Every other time he’s felt like this, Alastair has always been at the other end of a phone call, but that’s one thing he’s not going to do.

Purgatory, though. Perhaps he can go to the club and have a drink or two, and just watch rather than participate. It’s probably a bad idea, but Dean rarely has good ideas and so he struggles with a Henley, spends a good five minutes wrestling himself into a pair of tight-fitting jeans and even smooths over his hair one handed. He replaces his sling, just as Castiel had shown him earlier, and moves in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom.

He looks good, aside from the sling keeping his shoulder steady, and forces a smile on his face.

This is still a bad idea but fuck good ideas. He promised himself he wouldn’t go back, but he can’t stay away. He mostly hopes he doesn’t run into Alastair while he’s there. No doubt the man will turn on his charm and press for Dean to come home with him, and Dean’s weak enough that he would probably do just that.

He orders an Uber before he changes his mind and it’s quick to arrive. Before he knows it, the Uber has rolled up to the end of the street where the club is. He climbs out, thanking his driver and tips him from the app on his phone.

The cool night air bites through his thin t-shirt, but he knows from plenty of experience that the club is warm and as he nears the building, he can hear the music flowing out. The door is a single space between two buildings, nondescript except for the worn silver outline of the club name, Purgatory, hanging above the door.

There’s a couple of people hanging around outside smoking and Dean can tell that underneath their long coats they’re scantily clad. The two bouncers on the door silently ask for his ID and he shows them before slipping between them and heading down the narrow staircase. The door at the bottom leads Dean into a larger room, club music thumping but nowhere near as loud as the usual clubs for the sake of the private club underneath. There are strobe lights and people bustling about but Dean can tell after only a glance that these aren’t usual club goers. There’s a side passage close to the main door and Dean takes it, heading down a second flight of stairs to a quieter, more subdued area where the lights are low and a warm glow comes from lights on the dark walls.

The bar at one edge of the room takes his eye and he skirts around people, some fully dressed in shirts and ties, others wearing barely anything, some keep their eyes on their dom’s while some eyes linger as he passes. He doesn’t pay them any mind and perches on a soft topped stool and waits for the bartender to serve him. Its quiet enough that he comes as soon as he’s stacked away a few glasses.

He gives Dean a smile, which turns concerned when he looks at his arm, bundled under Dean’s suit jacket, but obviously injured.

“It was an accident,” Dean says to abate the man’s worries. He’s been a frequent flyer here for years so he shouldn’t be surprised that Benny is worried because no doubt he’s seen him with Alastair and the man certainly never held the highest reputation.  _ That _ should have been one of his biggest clues that he needed to leave but he just never found the right time, or so he tells himself.

“I hope so,” Benny says with a grumble and pours him a whiskey on the rocks without even asking. He’s been drinking the same, albeit different variations of whiskey, since his first night here. Always a double and he only ever has one until after he’s finished whichever scene he’s doing, and even then he goes home rather than staying more often than not. Tonight though, he’s not joining in, he’s here to enjoy a drink and to take his mind off everything that’s happened in the past couple of days.

He supposes he could have gone to any bar really, but Purgatory gives him a sense of familiarity and aside from certain people, he feels safe here.

Dean sips at his drink, swirling it so he can have half of his attention on the club scene and half of his attention on Benny who’s decided to chat idly with him over what’s been happening in the club as he’s not been in for several weeks. He tries to concentrate on the conversation but there’s so much going on that it’s difficult. He misses being a sub for someone.

Despite everything that’s happened, he’s still craving this and something more. Dean turns back to Benny, giving him his full attention. He downs his drink, ice cubes cold against his lips and sets it down.

“Can I have another, please?” Dean asks and pushes his glass forward so Benny can reach it with the bottle. When Benny hesitates at the out of character behaviour, Dean explains that he’s not here to scene and only then does Benny pour him another drink.

He drinks this one slower, feeling the pleasant malty taste linger on his tongue before swallowing. It’s definitely one of the club’s finer whiskeys and Dean’s glad for it. It gives him something to think about.

Once he’s done, Dean stands up, deciding he’s had enough and calls a goodbye to Benny who’s pouring a drink for another customer. He straightens his jacket and then heads to the door to go back up to the night club level. It swings open to cool air that sends a shiver through him.

He instinctively keeps his head down as he goes back up the stairs, seeing someone at the top coming down as well. There’s just enough room to pass each other and Dean gives the man a nod before carrying on.

A hand around his wrist stops him in his tracks and he whips around. He fully expects to be met with Alastair’s angry eyes and a sense of horror runs through him but he’s met with kind bright blue eyes and not the stormy grey ones that he’d seen so often.

“Dean?”

“Cas?”

“You’re here? At Purgatory?” he asks, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“Yeah, I come here all the time,” Dean says. Someone else wants to pass them on the stairs and they both plaster themselves to the sides to let them.

“I’ve never seen you here.”

“I haven’t been in a while,” he tells Castiel, wiggling the fingers in the sling and Cas just nods, understanding. “Plus, I’m usually here with someone, and they preferred the private rooms.” He adds, and it leaves an ashy aftertaste in his mouth as he remembers Alastair pulling him to one of the rooms his first night with him.

The man had been cool, older, collected and experienced and Dean had been eager to learn, somewhat ignorant and naive, all of which turned into a bad experience he couldn’t get away from. He shudders.

“Have you drunk much?” Cas asks, taking a step down towards the club.

Dean shakes his head. “A couple of whiskeys.”

Castiel smiles and its cheerful, excited and fun. “Can we talk? I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Only talk, doctor’s orders that this arm stays still,” Dean says and winks at Cas.

They sit to one side of the bar area, in a pair of low leather seats with a sign above them claiming that pants must be worn in the area. With his good arm, Dean pulls his jacket over his injured shoulder so it feels less obvious to everyone walking past. He’s a familiar face, and he can’t be bothered to deal with anyone else asking about him and his arm.

“Correct me if I’m being presumptuous, but, you’re a sub?” Castiel asks and while Dean had guessed that Cas knew, the bluntness of the question still throws him. He nods, though, and watches as a small smile curls Cas’ lips. “And your injury?”

“Was an accident, but yes. I’ve decided not to carry on in the scene.”

“And yet,” Castiel’s brow raises. “You’re here.”

Dean frowns, body tensing. “You’re observant,” he grumbles.

“Look, Dean... I don’t come here looking for kinky sex, I want... need... something different.”

“Cas, I don’t want to do this anymore, not after this,” Dean nods his head to his shoulder. He sighs, shifting himself to the end of his seat. “I shouldn’t have come here tonight,” Dean concludes and stands. He’s stopped by a gentle hand on his arm.

Castiel is standing with him now, close enough that he can feel his breath ghost over his neck. “I’m not after  _ this _ , I like looking after people,” he says and Dean doesn’t turn his head from where he’s looking at the exit still.

“You’re a doctor, Cas. It’s what you do.”

“More than that.”

Something in Dean’s mind Dean clicks into place as to what Castiel wants as the guy doesn’t want to say it out right, not even in the safe space of the club.

“I like rules, I like looking after people, this isn’t the first relationship I’ve had where I’ve been a head of household,” Castiel tells him and Dean nods along. “But first, before all of that, how about I take you out for dinner?”

“Dinner?”

“I’m not going to dump you in the deep end, I want to get to know you, Dean. From what I’ve seen so far, you’re an amazing person.”

Dean scoffs. “I wouldn’t say that.”

Castiel quirks an eyebrow at him and Dean feels cold run through him.  _ Fuck _ .

“You should say that about yourself. You should be proud of who you are, you’ve already come this far. That’s amazing, Dean. Believe in yourself.” Castiel’s touch on his arm is light, reassuring and while Dean doesn’t believe a word Cas is saying, he does wonder if there is some truth to his words.

“So, about that date?” Dean asks, changing the subject.

Castiel smiles, but Dean doesn’t miss the dip in his brow for a moment and he knows that he’s disappointed in him.

“Come on,” Castiel says, and beckons him back towards to the stairs.

“Right now?”

Castiel shrugs. “We’re out, aren’t we? Neither of us  _ really _ want to be in here.” Dean makes to protest, but then rethinks because really, he told himself he was never coming back, so getting out of here is probably the best plan.

“Okay.”

Their shoulders brush as they make to leave together and for some unknown reason to Dean he takes Castiel’s hand as it makes contact with his own. His breath hitches in his chest and part of him feels fifteen again.

“There’s a diner next door, I hear they do good pancakes in the middle of the night.” Castiel looks up to Dean as they take the stairs, still holding hands but walking in file.

“It’s an IHOP, Cas, I’d be pissed if they didn’t do good pancakes in the middle of the night.” 

They skirt through the main club and back out the doors into the fresh air and dip into the IHOP next door. Inside is bright, a greasy smell on the air and there’s only one other customer sitting down on one side of the room. Castiel pulls Dean over to a clean table in another corner and motions for him to sit too.

“I don’t think there’s a need to be gentlemanly when we’re both men,” Dean says with a laugh, Castiel just shrugs in response and sits opposite him.

“It doesn’t hurt to be nice,” Castiel tells him.

Perhaps he’s just not used to nice.

“How’s your shoulder?”

Dean’s rubbing the joint absently and drops his hand after Castiel asks. “Not so bad. You certainly did a good job, and the new pain meds help.”

“That’s good. In a few weeks you can start moving it again.”

Dean sighs with relief. “I’ll be glad for that.”

The waitress comes over, looking tired from a long shift, and takes their order. They both order pancake stacks and coffee and the woman whisks away to fulfil their requests.

Silence looms over them, Dean wants to ask more about what Castiel has in mind but he’s a admittedly afraid of the answers. It  _ is _ something he wants, and Cas seems like a great guy, but a Alastair had seemed like a great guy in the beginning, too. Suave and gentle until he wasn’t. He’s struggling to trust that Castiel won’t be the same. The fact he’s a doctor doesn’t matter - just because he won’t abuse his patients, it doesn’t mean he won’t abuse him in the bedroom, break him more than he’s already broken.

_ I’m not broken _ .

But he is, both physically and mentally. Alastair has left him damaged, possibly for life if what Castiel says is true about his shoulder. There’s no telling if the way Alastair set it has injured delicate ligaments.

“—Dean?”

“Sorry.” Dean looks up and Castiel is looking concerned. Their pancakes have arrived, the coffee poured and Castiel is holding out the bowl of brown and white sugar cubes towards him.

“Where’d you go?”

“Nowhere, I’m fine,” he lies. “The pancakes look great.” Dean picks up his fork and uses the side to cut a chunk off the maple laden pancakes and stuffs them in his mouth. His stomach doesn’t feel like it can take it, but once he gets going and is able to relax into the food, he finds that he’s hungrier than he realised.

“You shouldn’t lie, Dean.” The words come out sternly from Castiel and Dean stops eating.

“I’m fine, I promise,” Dean tries but Castiel doesn’t seem to believe him. “I—I’m just trying to... I don’t know. I’m trying to figure this out.” The truth leaks easily from him when he puts his thoughts into it.

“It’s just a date, I know we kinda had a  _ thing _ a few days ago, but Dean, just forget about what I said earlier. I meant it, but we should know each other first. Do you trust me?”

Dean shakes his head slowly. Castiel doesn’t seem upset by that though. “I trusted him with all of me and look how that ended up,” Dean grits out, then shovels a too large forkful of pancake in his mouth and it tastes bland and tacky. It’s effort to chew through but eventually he swallows and Cas is looking up at him with bright, hopeful eyes. He doesn’t understand why, though, he feels like a dead end.

“I understand that.” Dean can tell that he means it. It’s refreshing, and maybe, one day, he’ll be able to trust Castiel if they get on well.

“it’s not that I won’t ever trust you, just, not less than a week after meeting you.” Dean takes a slurp of his coffee and Castiel does the same, mirroring the way Dean has his elbows perched on the table and one hand on his mug.

Dean can’t help but smile. Castiel just seems so good, surreally so.

“This isn’t the greatest first date—”

“Well... It’s not my worst,” Dean cuts in and it makes Castiel smile.

“So I propose we try again sometime, would you like that?”

Dean nods. “Perhaps even upgrade from an IHOP too. Not that I don’t love pancakes, but a real date with steak and beer would be more my speed.”

“We can do that.”


	3. Fine Is Not An Acceptable Answer

The Roadhouse is nice, much better than a diner but still casual enough that wearing jeans and one of his slightly less worn shirts is good enough. He knows Castiel isn’t here yet as they’ve been texting regularly the past couple of weeks and there’s been no mention of him being here.

So when Dean enters the Roadhouse and spots him by the bar, leaning casually and smiling at the bartender who laughs and hands him two drinks he can’t help but feel his stomach flip with nerves. He hasn’t seen the guy for a while, not in a casual setting anyway. Dean went back to the free clinic to have another check up on his shoulder. Cas says it is healing well and Dean was told he could take the sling off and begin slow movements.

Castiel spots him and waves him over and he slips between a couple of people to reach him.

“Ellen, this is Dean,” he introduces and Dean waves awkwardly at the bartender.

“Hey.”

She smiles at him, giving him an appreciative look and then winking at Castiel.

“There’s a table free over there,” Castiel says, motioning with his elbow as he grabs the two beers. Dean leads towards the table and sits down, dragging one of the beers towards him. It’s the same brand as the ones they had been drinking when they first met. Dean smiles, happy that he remembered.

“How’ve you been?” Dean asks, taking a long sip of his drink.

“Busy,” Castiel says with a sigh. “I’ve been stretched thin between the clinic and the hospital. Honestly, I’m not sure I actually slept last Wednesday.”

“That’s rough.”

“I’m lucky I enjoy my job, both of them.” Castiel smiles and reaches out for Dean’s hand. Dean lets him take it, a gentle warmth over his skin.

“I have been bored shitless at home. Tried to go to work and do some paperwork but that didn’t really work either. Don’t realise how much you use your arm until you can’t.” Dean chuckles quietly and watches as Castiel turns his eyes on him with a small smile.

“That’s pretty common,” he comments.

They order food, and drink more beer but cap themselves off after three when Dean suggests that they talk here and now and not save it any later.

“A month,” Castiel says abruptly. “We can see how we fare, if we match, if this is what you want.”

“What I want? Isn’t the whole point that you take that choice away from me?”

Castiel shrugs. “For some, but not me. As much as I’d like you to stay, I’m not about to lock you into a relationship you don’t want. You still wouldn’t be able to safeword out of daily life, but your safeword will be there for anything we do that’s intimate. Do you understand that?” Castiel looks incredibly stern, eyes wide, hoping Dean gets it.

He does, and part of him realises that he’s essentially walking into what he had with Alastair all over again, but at least this time he’s aware of it, he can see it coming and there’s a way out ahead if he needs it.

It’s going against everything he promised himself, but Dean can’t seem to just run away from his submissive side, from his need to please and to show how good he can be for someone.

“I understand,” he tells him with a nod and then adds: “Sir.”

Castiel’s eyes darken with the title but he quickly regains control of himself.

“From now until next Monday I don’t want you to touch yourself. I’ll give you my address and you’ll come to my house and we will start.”

Dean smirks.  _ Oh, this is going to be fun _ .

*~*~*~*

Dean kneels in the bedroom, cock soft between his spread thighs, hands crossed behind his back, just as he’s been told to do at the time Castiel dictates via text that day for when he is due home. Occasionally, it’s a little longer when Cas gets caught up at work with a patient, and yet, Dean will hold until Castiel comes through the door. 

He’s been doing admin at the garage all day which is mind-numbing, but it’s something he can do between light bouts or more intense work as he regains use of his shoulder.

Castiel has been hesitant to use rope on Dean, but after Dean’s insistence and a full check-up from Castiel, they’ve started to introduce it. The first time didn’t go well, not after being in the same position that dislocated his shoulder in the first place. He was subsequently punished for omitting the truth about his injury to Castiel before they began. He was, however, praised for using his safe word.

It’s a hard habit to break, because he grew used to just not saying anything with Alastair. Alastair liked it when he was quiet, often gagging him and if he was extra noisy, shoving a dildo in his mouth so far it felt like he was constantly choking as Alastair fucked him hard from behind.

Castiel, though, liked it when Dean spoke to him, kept him informed and when he made all the noises as fingers slid into him, as Cas’ various toys did the same and rubbed against his prostate. It feels good, but it’s a conscious effort to remember. 

It’s been two weeks already, and Dean thinks he’s settled into Cas’ house well. His backside has other thoughts, however. Tanned red by Cas’ belt just two days ago for lying to Castiel about coming in the shower, Dean’s ass is still a little tender to the touch. 

There’s a creak downstairs as Castiel comes through the door and Dean resumes his position to the best standard he can offer. The heels of his feet just graze his tender ass, toes curled to support him, knees apart, back straight and eyes up. 

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel greets as the bedroom door opens. 

“Evening, sir.”

“Come, stand up and you can kneel next to the couch and tell me about your day.” Castiel beckons him forward and Dean gets up. One of his knees cracks but he ignores it and follows Cas closely back down the stairs into the living room. 

Once there, Castiel sinks down into the plush fabric and motions for Dean to kneel before him. He sits up briefly, taking Dean’s head in his hands. He looks at him, this way and that before being seemingly satisfied. Castiel leans forward and presses a kiss to Dean’s forehead.

The simple, nurturing gesture sends a shiver through Dean and he smiles warmly, closing his eyes even though he knows he’s not supposed to. He can’t help it, the feeling of being cherished by Castiel is all-consuming, something he never thought he could get from a dom and he wonders if, after all this time, this is exactly what he’s been needing. 

“Tell me, Dean,” Castiel begins. Dean opens his eyes to Castiel’s blue ones and they’re boring into him for answers. “How was your day?” 

Even in the short trial period, he and Cas have set up a decent amount of rules for Dean to follow. Each one Dean agreed to wholeheartedly, though he knew many would be a challenge to follow. Rule number three: do not lie, is one that Dean finds particularly hard, especially when it comes down to how he’s feeling. Rule number four: fine is not an acceptable answer, is the reason for that. 

“Productive,” Dean supplies. He rests his head against Cas’ thigh and the dom’s hand comes out and strokes through his hair. “A lot of the admin work had been building up, and I managed to get through--ohhhh,” Dean’s cut off with a perfectly targeted set of nails scraping over his scalp and sending a shiver through him. He takes a few deep breaths to get used to the good feeling before continuing. "Most of it. Just a few more files to take care of tomorrow.”

Castiel hums contentedly and smiles down at Dean. “It sounds like you’ve been looking after yourself at work.”

Dean’s about to nod and agree, but he remembers that he also did an engine lift with Victor early this morning when no one else was around to help out. It  _ had _ strained his shoulder a little and he had taken painkillers after it to ease the ache. He looks down briefly and Castiel doesn’t miss it. Dean actually thrives on how attentive he can be. It is a world of difference to how his previous dom used to be.

Castiel’s fingers pause as Dean refocusses on him and tells him about the engine change. A flash of concern washes over his dom’s face and then it’s masked by disappointment.

“‘m sorry, sir.”

“Does it still hurt?”

Dean shakes his head. It had stopped hurting as soon as the painkillers kicked in and it never came back. “I rested it the rest of the day, was just a bit overworked, that’s all.”

“What did we speak about, Dean? This is important. Keeping out of pain while it’s healing will be better in the long run.”

“It’s been  _ weeks _ ,” Dean says, exasperated, and then regrets his back-talk when Castiel glowers at him. The man can seriously turn an eye on him, and that alone can warn Dean into silence and obedience. “I’m sorry, sir.” 

The back-talk and the apology come too late and Cas wraps his hand around Dean's upper arm and forces him to stand up. “We have talked about this, time and time again. I will absolutely not stand for your insolence and disregard for your own health. We have rules for a reason, you  _ agreed _ to them for a reason. You’re following them, if not to respect me, then to respect yourself.” Cas’ tone is firm, level and not once does he raise his voice, nor remove his grip from Dean’s arm.

There’s a momentary pause where Dean thinks he needs to answer for himself, but he knows that anything he says now won’t lessen the punishment that’s about to be handed to him. Man, this was going to hurt. His ass is barely peach again.

Castiel removes his hand from Dean, and then raises a brow in expectation. Cas’ belt is in the top drawer in their bedroom. He steps away, keeping calm and taking measured steps upstairs. His heart races with both anticipation and fear. He takes the belt in his hands and feels the smooth leather against his fingers. He wonders, briefly, what it feels like to hold a belt in his hands and strike a sub’s ass with it, and feel the pleasure to go with it. He wonders what Castiel thinks about when he tells him he’s disobeyed their rules and he wonders how Castiel feels once he’s done doling it out. He tries to wrap his mind around a dominant mindset, but all it causes is a headache and he knows that he needs to be back downstairs swiftly before Cas adds more lines to his ass for taking too long. 

Dean scrambles back out of their bedroom and returns to the living room where Cas is waiting, impatiently.

“Over the arm of the couch. Legs apart. Make sure you’re steady, and do not move.” Several commands, all of which Dean complies with easily. 

He folds himself over the arm of the couch, inching his feet apart. Dean bites his lip to stifle a whimper that he can feel rising in his throat. 

A soft hand comes to rest at the dip of his back, stilling a movement he hadn't realised he was making. 

"Ten for your disrespect to yourself, another five for talking back to me. Tell me Dean, why are you in trouble?"

Dean's words fumble from his lips but he corrects himself quickly, "I disrespected myself by doing more physical work than was safe and I talked back to you out of turn, sir.”

“Thank you for telling me, Dean,” Castiel says and then leans in closer to his ear. “Brace yourself.”

Dean doesn’t get the change to tighten his fingertips against the soft cushion he’s leaning on before the belt comes down on his ass. He doesn’t get chance to stifle the yelp that escapes his throat as the sting radiates across his backside. 

“One, sir.” Dean’s voice trembles and as soon as he’s said the words, another strike hits him. 

He knows he should have stopped and thought about his physical abilities before helping with the engine change. He was just trying to be helpful. And he should know better not to talk back, even in moments where he doesn’t think. Alastair hated when he spoke back to him, it had always resulted in a harsh spanking followed by a less than savoury fuck. He’d hated those moments. 

Dean keeps count, trying not to let his thoughts stray too far from  _ why _ Cas is doing this. This is for him, he  _ needs _ this. He needs to stay in check, he needs to be healthy, he needs to get better and he  _ needs _ to be good for Castiel. He wants to be good for Castiel.

He can do this. 

Dean bites his lip, only letting it free when he needs to call out the number. He keeps his pain to himself. It hurts, but Castiel is doing this for him. This is for his own sake, he deserves this and he wants this. He repeats to himself why Castiel is punishing him and he feels every inch of the belt lick against his skin like fire. He feels himself go comfortably numb to it, and a light fog clouds over his brain. He sinks into it, and it feels just like he needs it to be. 

This is for him. He knows that.

“Fifteen, sir.”

“You’re done, Dean,” Castiel says to him and it’s like music to his ears. Gentle hands pick him up until he’s on his feet and Castiel is looking at him, right through him like he’s all he can see. 

Castiel smiles and a gentle hand comes up to his face and cups it. It’s almost as if Dean isn’t really here, as if he’s watching from the outside, all the fuzzy feelings are bunching up inside from being given what he needs.

He disrespected Castiel today and he disrespected himself. 

“Thank you, sir. I won’t disrespect you or myself again.”

“No,” Castiel says and kisses him on the cheek. “Now come and sit down again. I want to talk to you about something.”

Dean’s hand falls into Cas’ own and he’s pulled towards the couch. A gentle hand to his shoulder orders him to kneel on the floor just as he had been before and even his subspace-fogged brain doesn’t miss how much his ass stings as his heels press against his tender, reddened flesh. 

Castiel passes him a cushion, the same one he’d been leaning on during his punishment he notices, and he slides it under his ass to ease the discomfort. His dom’s hand in his hair again brings about a comfort that he’s craving and in some respect, it’s as if nothing ever interrupted them the first time. 

“Are you with me, love?” There’s a gentle tap to the side of his head and Dean looks up. Castiel tilts his head to one side and Dean blinks several times and the fog in his head seems to dissipate a little leaving him feeling a little heavier and vastly more aware that his ass hurts. He takes a deep breath, rolling his shoulders carefully and feels himself leaving subspace. "There we go," Castiel coos and strokes the side of his face. Any more praise and comfort and Dean sees himself falling right back into the depths of subspace so he lightly pulls away.

Castiel thankfully lets him, a finger under Dean's chin to lift up his head so their eyes meet. 

"Do you need anything?" Castiel asks him but Dean shakes his head.

He smiles a little, he's honestly just happy to sit here with Castiel and wonder what he wants to say. 

"Okay, and you're with me? I need you to be here with me for a few minutes because I want a serious discussion about something."

Dean looks up to Castiel and nods. "I'm here." He can't think what he needs to speak about and he wonders briefly if he's done something wrong. He rifles through his brain trying to think of something - anything - that he's done in the past couple of days. If it were that bad, surely he'd have been punished for it already. Castiel certainly isn't one to shy away from doling out what needs correcting. 

"I want to take you out as my sub. Most likely to Purgatory as it’s somewhere we're both familiar with. We don't have to do anything complicated. I'm not about leading you around naked by your cock, unless that's something you want. 

“You put on your list that exhibitionism is something you wanted to work on, so maybe we find one of the private rooms and leave the door open. That way if you feel uncomfortable we can shut the door and stop. I'd like to lay you out, tie you up, blindfold you maybe. Then I want to get my fingers in you-"

Dean cuts him off swiftly. “You want me here, but talking like that is gonna send me straight back down into subspace," Dean explains with a wry grin. 

Castiel flushes in response. "I apologise, I forget myself sometimes." 

"I'll do it. I wanna be good for you, sir." 

Castiel smiles and Dean knows that was the right answer. Deep down he's apprehensive. Despite his own hiccup and running into Castiel again, he  _ did _ promise himself he wouldn't go back there. However, he knows he'll be safe. Castiel has been nothing but kind. Hell, the guy hasn't even fucked him yet. Dean expects he's just waiting for Dean to be good enough. Dean will just have to try harder.

“Then we’ll go Saturday. Between now and then I can work out what I’d like to do and we can discuss it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”


	4. Steps Into Purgatory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My second manip is in this chapter - I'm super proud of this one, so I hope you like it too! :D 
> 
> Just a heads up: it's semi-nsfw (no dicks on show, but nakedness)

Dean follows Castiel down the steps into Purgatory. The place is loud, seemingly more than usual, but Dean expects that he’s just hyperaware of everything. He watches as the hairs on Castiel’s head bounce with every step, the way his dom’s shoulders carry an air of assertiveness, and tracks how he strides into the room as if he owns the place. 

Dean keeps his pace even, his eyes on Castiel and not the other patrons in the room. Instinctively, he wants to look for Benny, to somehow let him know that he’s okay. The last the man saw of Dean was him following a new dom out of the door. 

He’s distracted enough for the moment that he doesn’t notice that Cas has stopped and nearly crashes into him. In return, he receives a raised brow from Castiel, indicating that he’s unimpressed. Dean bows his head in response, but Castiel just picks Dean’s head up with a tut and smiles at him.

“Two minutes, you can go and say hello to Benny. I don’t mind.”

This is a test, surely, Dean realises and hesitates with a glance over to the bar where he spots Benny, he’s smiling broadly at a woman at the bar as he passes over a drink. 

“Your two minutes are running out. If you don’t wish to say hello, just say so and we can move on.”

“No, I--” Dean steps backwards and then turns his back on his dom and walks to the bar. It feels wrong, he should stay with his dom, he should have been led into one of the private rooms and stripped off as would be expected. This,  _ freedom _ , is new, it’s unrelentingly on his mind that he’s going to get punished.

But Castiel isn’t Alastair. He isn’t going to be punished for having friends. He’s not going to be punished for needing to see someone other than his dom at the club. Castiel is understanding and he’s kind and he gets Dean. 

“Hey, Benny.”

Benny looks up to Dean and his face is that of surprise before it settles into an easy smile. “Look what the cat dragged in,” he says playfully. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Not tonight, not now anyway. I’m here for like… with Cas.”

“Cas, huh? Hear he’s a nice fella.”

Dean takes a moment to look back at Castiel. The man is stood patiently, not looking at anything in particular. He looks relaxed and yet it’s clear he’s a dominant. He’s beautiful too, and perhaps it’s just the way that the low lights are hitting his face, but really, Castiel is beautiful, all of him. 

“You seem to know everyone,” Dean comments.

“I know a lot of things,” Benny replies and throws a wink at Dean. “Looks like you best be going.” He nods to something behind him and Castiel is there, tapping a watch he isn’t wearing. 

“See ya.”

“Take care, Dean.”

“Always.”

Benny hums disbelievingly but lets Dean go back and he returns to Castiel’s side. 

“Everything okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

Castiel nods at him and then leads Dean into one of the private rooms that is marked vacant. Dean feels excited, suddenly. He knows what’s going to happen tonight, and Castiel has promised him that if anything were to change, he’d be informed. Even knowing what’s going to happen is a damn sight more than Alastair ever gave him. Whenever he turned up here with his old dom, he never had an inkling of what would happen. Punishment or a kinky fuck, it would have been a surprise. 

Tonight, though, which is what Dean needs to set all his focus on, is all about Dean being comfortable in the space. He feels like a newbie again, being shown the ropes, except this time, he’s being shown the right way.

The door is closed behind them and Dean stands in the centre of the space, facing Castiel with an easy determination set within him.

“Strip off your clothes.” The order comes from Castiel naturally and Dean follows it, shedding his t-shirt first. 

Castiel watches him with a careful eye as Dean removes his layers until everything is folded neatly and he’s stood naked in front of Castiel. His dom looks him up and down and Dean tries not to feel shy about his body. There’s absolutely nothing Castiel hasn’t seen before, but somehow he feels more exposed, more vulnerable here that at Castiel’s house.

“Kneel for me,” he instructs. Dean lowers himself to the hardwood floor, and his knees really feel it. He doesn’t show it outwards, instead focussing on keeping a good position like he knows Castiel wants him in. “Very good. Now...” Castiel grins mischievously and Dean can’t help but notice that it’s a good look on the man. “I am going to give you a choice.”

“Please, sir.”

“I can either give you a mat to kneel on and I will edge you right here while you are kneeling, or we can use the swing.” 

Dean thinks for a moment, looking over at the swing in the corner and then back to his knees. They haven’t tried the swing before, it looks comfortable enough, but then again, Dean doesn’t want comfort, he wants to be good and to prove it to Cas.

“I want to kneel for you, sir.” 

Castiel smiles, turning away to grab a kneeling mat from the side of the room. It’s got a plastic coating over it to protect it from anything and so it can be cleaned effectively. It’s comfortable, however, as Castiel sets it in front of Dean and he shuffles forward to kneel upon it. Already his cock is at half mast and interested by the rest of the nights events, but no doubt it won’t be long until he is begging for release. 

Dean keeps his eyes forward as Castiel circles around him. Soft fingertips touch his back and he broadens his shoulders, straightening up. They touch his forearm in a silent reminder to correct his position and he clings to his arms tighter behind his back. A shoe nudges against the inside of his thigh and Dean opens his legs wider his gait. Then there’s a finger under his chin and he looks up to Castiel. 

He can feel himself slipping already, falling gently, like a feather in the wind. Part of him wants to hold on, to remain present where he can keep an eye on the door, to know who's coming in and who can see them. But also, the freedom that subspace gives him means that he won't care if people are watching and will instead be focusing on what Castiel is doing and following his instructions. 

"You're safe here, Dean. Just listen to me."

"Yes, sir."

"Now, keep your head up for me, I'm going to open the door so people can peer in if they please. Are they going to see you being good for me?" 

"I'm going to be so good." 

Castiel strokes through Dean's hair and a shiver runs through him. His long, tender fingers scritching at the roots and then trailing down the skin of his back. It tingles and wakes his cock up, simply from sensation. Suddenly it doesn't matter that Castiel hasn't fucked him yet, he could come alone from just Castiel's hands all over him. 

A foot nudges against his inner thigh and the touch startles him, but he complies to the silent order and spreads his thighs a little more. 

He feels Castiel kneel behind him, and Dean finds he's in full view of the open door. He can see people out there milling around, doing their own thing. He's beginning to  _ want _ someone to walk over, lean against the door jamb and watch as Castiel plays with him. 

Dean whimpers. 

"Oh, so we are making pretty noises today," Castiel murmurs in his ear and Dean nods slowly. 

"Gotta be… be good, sir. You like the noises," Dean tells him. 

"I do, and they might attract some onlookers." A kiss to his neck and then the back of his shoulder. Castiel pulls his head to the right and plants one on his cheek. It's tender. A touch that he's cherishing while he's with Castiel. 

A touch he never got with Alastair. 

Dean sinks deeper. 

A hand brushes over his thigh and he feels Castiel crowding him from behind, right at his level. Dean wonders if this is strange, if this should be different, if Castiel should even be on his knees behind him. The fine hairs on his thigh tingle and goosebumps rise on his skin. 

It moves upwards, towards his bare crotch, and even with his eyes up, he can sense how tantalisingly close he is to his cock. 

Castiel is whispering in his ear, but he can't make out the words, just the hot flush across his ear. 

The first touch on his cock has Dean flinching minutely, but Castiel's other hand against his back keeps him from freaking out too much. Slowly he hardens as Castiel's fingers run up and down the shaft. 

"There we go…" Castiel breathes. 

Dean's breath hitches in his throat and he lets out a low moan as a finger circles his slit, and massages against the underside of the head. Never before has something so light, careful and easy turned him on so much. His skin flushes hot, cheeks heating and sweat beginning to build up in the small of his back. 

Dean cants his head back and it bumps Castiel's shoulder. 

Slowly, what must be hours, days, later, he can feel himself crawling to the edge. He reaches it, just about to tumble over into oblivion when a harsh, "Stop," rushes into his ear. 

The hand disappears, but he can still feel the weight of Castiel at his back, and he cries out in desperation. 

Castiel shushes him quietly, with promises that he'll touch him again in a moment. Dean wants to tell him to move, to let him come, but he has to be good, or he won't come at all and he certainly doesn't want that. 

Dean calms, his breathing slowing and the intense sensations on his cock dissipating slightly. Sweat drips from his temples but he elects to ignore it, though it’s hard to do so when Castiel is so close. 

The man is a menace. He's only been to the edge once and already he just wants to fall into the abyss and never come back. He draws in a wheezing breath and lets it out with a shudder. 

"So good, Dean." 

With that, Castiel returns his hand to his cock, playing with it, toying with the sensations and equally toying with his mind. It hurts and yet, the pain is deep inside him. It's not physical, not that he can fathom, it's more than that. It's an ache he's been desperate for for what feels like centuries. He's never been given this before, he's never been cherished so much. 

Castiel is as gentle as they come. And he feels fucking lucky. 

Dean rolls towards the edge again, panting and moaning. He can feel the sounds in his chest rumbling and whining and all the while Castiel keeps up his praises. 

"Such a noisy slut, isn't he?" 

Dean's thoughts shudder to a debilitating halt. No. No. This can't be happening. Alastair is gone. He’s not here. This is just in his head. 

"Normally I shut the fucker up." 

"Stop. Red. No…" Dean squirms and he's pulled violently out of his subspace and all he can see is Alastair's face at the door and silver confetti dotting his vision. 

Dean makes to stand up, but a firm had on his shoulder keeps him kneeling. He said stop. Why isn't this stopping? 

Yelling comes next. It's Castiel. He's raising his voice against the man who hurt him, who  _ abused _ him for years. 

"Get out! You have no right to talk to my sub like that. You absolutely cannot come in here and interrupt my scene without permission."

"Kid's a plaything, I don't know why you're so attached to him."

"He deserves to be cherished." The words hit Dean like a ton of bricks, but still they can't undo what Alastair said about him. It's been months since he last saw Alastair and seeing him again, barely aware of anything, has ripped open old wounds that he thought were just beginning to heal. Tough luck on that, though he really should have expected it. 

Dean stands up, not taking account of his nakedness and takes a step away from the door. 

Alastair makes to move forward but Castiel throws his forearm against Alastair. "Take another step and it's not going to end well for you," Castiel growls. 

"What's going on here?" 

Benny. 

Castiel looks behind Alastair to see him and immediately Benny grabs Alastair by the collar and yanks him out of the room. 

"Fuckin' knew it was your sly ass that hurt 'im," Benny snarls and then Alastair is gone. Thrown out banned and reported, no doubt. 

Dean is reeling. 

The door clicks shut and the sounds from outside disappear. Castiel is suddenly in front of him, a hand against Dean's chest as his head swims. 

"Just wanted it to stop." The words tumble from Dean's lips and he feels a tear slip onto his tongue, salty and warm. 

"It's stopped. No more, I promise." Castiel swipes his hand gently down the side of Dean's face, thumbing away the tears. He hadn’t even realised he was crying and now he's a pathetic mess. "No, you're not pathetic, Dean." 

There's a quiet knock on the door and Dean glances up to see Benny peering around the door as he opens it carefully. In his hand is a soft looking blanket and he holds it out. 

"Got you this, if you wanna cover up," he says and Castiel leaves Dean in a swirl of cool air as he strides across the room to get it. 

Dean suddenly feels exposed. He feels more than naked, stripped bare of his clothing and his emotions. The blanket that wraps around him is warm as if someone had it on a radiator and Dean shivers with the change in temperature as he's cocooned. 

"He's been reported, banned from this club and no doubt will be banned from others soon enough. We can call the police if you wish to press charges, but it's up to you, Dean," Benny tells them and Dean weighs his options. Pressing charges in the right thing to do, but currently it's not something he wants to deal with. Ideally right now, he wants to go home and crawl into bed and never leave but he knows that he can't do that. "And Dean? I'm sorry. I should have seen it years ago. I should have checked in with you when you came up to the bar. It feels like I could have prevented that asshole from dislocating your shoulder."

Dean's mouth opens and closes. It's not right, what Benny is saying. Even if Benny  _ had _ asked if he was okay, he would have told him he was fine. He would have told him that nothing was wrong and tried to work out why he was concerned. For years Dean didn't see it. It took him too damn long, an injury even, to really see what was really happening. 

Castiel, thankfully, speaks for him. "I think Dean needs to go home and rest before making any decisions. Thank you for your concern, Benny." 

Dean visibly relaxes, relieved that he doesn't need to make a decision now. He has a feeling he's got a rough night ahead. Being yanked out of subspace like he was never makes it easy on the emotions. If he doesn't drop tonight, he'll be surprised. 

"You okay with that, chief?"

"Yeah, I'm fi- I just need some rest." Telling them he's fine is so far from the truth and it would break their rules, and he should admit that he's not. 

"Put your clothes back on, Dean, and we'll go home."

Dean waves at Benny on the way out and he and Cas climb the stairs together, Castiel's hand in his own. He hates to admit it, but the comfort is nice and he doesn't want to let go. 

"Do you mind driving?" Dean asks when he gets to the Impala. The fresh air outside has made him realise how exhausted he is and he can barely keep his eyes open. The last thing he needs is to fall asleep at the wheel and have an accident. He's had enough trauma for one night. 

"Yes, of course," Castiel says, like Dean didn't just give him the keys to his most prized possession. No one has driven the Impala except for Sam and his dad. He's never trusted anyone to drive her, but out of exhaustion, he trusts Cas to take care of her. 

"Not a scratch."

"Never."

Dean slides into the passenger seat and once the engine is running, Cas slides a hand over to his thigh and rubs gently. 

The journey home is quiet, simply filled with a radio station that Cas chooses. It's chat-heavy and Dean can't discern what's going on and he finds himself drifting in and out of sleep the entire way home. 

When Castiel taps him on the arm to wake him fully, he realises that he's home. But they're not at Cas' place, they're at Dean's and he frowns questioningly at the man. 

"I figured you might want to sleep in your own bed tonight," he says and Dean nods dumbly.

"You coming up too?" Dean asks. Castiel nods with a small smile, seemingly grateful that Dean asked. 

They exit the car, Dean glancing back to check her over, and go up to Dean's apartment. It's dark inside, and it feels cold due to the lack of living here in the past month. It's weird, coming back. He's started seeing Castiel's house as  _ home _ . And coming back to this small place feels constricting and not right. 

"I think I'm gonna grab a glass of something strong and go to sleep," Dean announces and heads towards the kitchenette where he has his bourbon stashed in a top cupboard. He pours himself a glass, taking a sip and enjoying the way it made him feel warm from the inside out. "Want one?" 

"No, thanks. I have to work in the morning."

"Right. So, bed it is then."

Despite having spent the last nearly four weeks with Castiel, a majority of it being naked in front of him, Dean feels awkward as he takes off his shirt and pants, leaving him in just a pair of boxers. This feel different, more intimate and domestic. Castiel turns away and undresses to the same level. The sheets are cold as Dean slides under them, but Castiel seems quick to shuffle up to him. 

"Are you feeling okay?" Castiel whispers into his ear. The dark of the room and the quiet of the studio apartment makes it sound loud in his ear and Dean shuffles onto his side. 

"Yeah, I… I don't think I'm gonna drop, I feel okay."

"I think you already dropped earlier right afterwards. Maybe not how it usually affects you, but it was still there," Cas explains and Dean realises then that yes, that happened. He'd done well so far not to think too much about it. Though now that he's home and not so intensely wired, he can think about it rationally. 

"Thank you - for holding my ground when I couldn't." Dean presses a kiss to Castiel's shoulder and he can just about make out the soft smile. "Can I repay you? I don't think I've given you a good orgasm yet." 

There's silence, and it feels long and drawn out, Castiel's breathing stops hissing in the air and the sheets rustle. 

"Cas? Did I say something wrong?"

"No, Dean… I just…"

Dean places a hand over Castiel's arm, soothing his thumb over the skin. "If there's something you want me to do - or not do - you gotta tell me. It works both ways, you know this. I have my limits and you do too."

"I don't like being pleasured. I never have." The words are quiet but careful, like he doesn't want to misexplain himself.

"But you like making other people feel good?" 

"Yes."

"But you don't get off on it?" 

"No." That explains why Cas never wanted him to return the favour the first night they were together. The fact he was injured seems to have been an excuse. He feels less bad about himself doing wrong though, if it was something Cas was never interested in from the beginning. 

"Okay." Dean can work around it, he knows. He can just find something else Cas  _ does _ like and give him that instead, if that means kneeling for him more often or spending time watching movies on the couch with him, then so be it. Cas is happy to provide him with what he needs, there's no reason why Dean can't provide that for Cas. Just because he's the sub, it won't change anything. 

He  _ likes _ Cas. Really likes him. They've had something together for nearly a month and he's loved every moment of it. More so now, looking back, because he knows what Cas doesn't like. 

"Okay?" Cas questions and Dean moves even closer to him, resting a head on Cas' shoulder. 

"Yeah, Cas, of course it's okay. Can I ask what you do like?" 

"You." Castiel presses a kiss to Dean's face, clearly missing his lips in the dark. Dean laughs and shakes his head with amusement. 

"So what? Cuddling, obviously you seem to like giving me blow jobs, and damn you're good with your hands."

Castiel growls low his his chest and Dean can tell that his dom is back in play. Without further warning, Dean is on his back with a very determined Castiel looming over him in the dark.

"I like kissing," he starts, pressing several to Dean's face, aimed better than his last attempt. "I like touching you, and making you feel all sorts of things. I like it when you look after yourself and I like looking after you." Cas is smiling the whole time and Dean loves how confident this Cas is. 

Dean presses on, carefully, aware of what he’s about to ask and not wanting Cas to take it the wrong way. “If there’s anything you want me to do, at any point, you know I’ll be here for you, right? I know how this is, I’m a sub, and  _ you’re _ the dom, but seriously, if there’s anything,” Dean stops himself before he puts his foot in his mouth.

“I’ll be sure to let you know.”

Dean breathes out. 

“Now, let’s sleep.” The order is clear in Cas’ voice, but Dean’s feeling more awake than he was earlier and he whines. Dean never did get off earlier, and he fancies testing Cas’ patience. “Oh?”

“Please, Cas… sir.”

Cas’ knee slips between Dean’s thighs, moving upwards until there’s a gentle pressure against his cock. Already it’s a little hard, just imagining the things he wants Cas to do to him. Cas’ hands push Dean’s arms above his head and Dean squirms a little as he settles in place. 

“It makes me very happy to see you like this, Dean - but we really have to talk about your manners,” Cas murmurs, hands sliding down Dean’s bare chest, brushing over his sensitive nipples and giving them a painful tweak.

Dean squeaks but Castiel ignores it and slides his hands further down. They slip under his ass, momentarily massaging the muscles there before applying a hard squeeze that makes Dean groan. It’s uncomfortable, and Cas knows it. But he shouldn’t have defied Cas’ order to sleep, it’s his own fault. 

The pressure against his cock increases but his cock only gets harder. Castiel ruts against him, and keeps going with the tight grip on his ass. Precome is leaking from his tip, creating a wet patch on the front of his boxers and Cas doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop and it’s glorious. 

Dean lets out a loud moan and that only seems to encourage Cas’ actions. Soon enough the heat builds so much it feels like Dean will be set on fire but then one final squeeze to his ass cheek, and the other hand sneaking down to press up into his perineum has Dean coming. His cock is still confined to his boxer briefs and he comes all over himself, hot, wet and sticky. His breaths come in shallow pants as he fights to regain some semblance of control but it’s Cas’ hand over his chest that has him taking deep, meaningful breaths. 

“That’s it, Dean. Slow in, breathe out.” All the while his dom touches his now sensitive cock. He wants to ask him to stop, but then Cas does, because his dom  _ knows _ him. He knows how much Dean can take. 

“I’m okay,” Dean tells him and Cas rolls away from him, landing back on the other side of the bed with a soft thump. 

“In that case, go and shower, come back in quietly because some of us have to be up at five.”

Dean doesn’t move straight away and he pays for it with a sharp, but playful, backhand to his hip.

“I’m going, I’m going.”

Dean showers, lathering up his hair with his favourite hair wash and then slathering his body in coconut cream body wash. Some chick had some in her shower a long time ago, and he’s never looked back from the silky gel that leaves a fresh, but subtle coconutty smell behind. Drying off is a quick affair, his hair is short enough that a rough towel dry means he won’t be sleeping on a soaked pillow for the night. 

He creeps back into the room, pausing as he sees Cas curled up on his side, fast asleep. He’s never been more thankful for not having a creaky floor as he tiptoes across the apartment. Dean slides gently into bed, trying not to jostle the covers too much as he pulls them over himself and then shuffles back slowly so that Cas’ hands are against his back. 

Castiel’s arm eventually loop over him and Dean can finally relax into sleep.


	5. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, at the end!

Dean brings two tall mugs of steaming coffee to the table in Cas’ house. He presses a kiss to Cas’ temple as he sits down, setting the mugs on coasters, per Cas’ strict request. They’re here on equal ground, stripped bare of their usual submissive and dominant roles and clear headed. 

The plan is to round up on the past few weeks and make an informed decision as to how to move forward, and they definitely need clear heads for it. Castiel doesn’t want Dean making a decision solely based on his cock, which Dean understands. He’s seen where that gets him, and he’s nowhere near inclined to repeat that. 

Castiel is a good man. He’s kind and gentle and he knows how to handle all aspects of Dean. The time he’s spent with him over the past few weeks have given Dean a sense of purpose. He feels like he’s accomplished more in the last few weeks than all the time combined with Alastair. Just thinking of his previous dom sends a twinge down his spine, so he clears his thoughts. 

Above everything, Dean  _ wants _ to serve Castiel all the time under a contract. He’s never done it this way before, not officially, and it feels good to have this safety measure in place. In the contract will be their rules, and Dean will obey them all or he’ll be paying for it with a red ass. It dictates their hard limits, and a few soft limits, while another document has a more detailed list of their likes and dislikes. They spent hours in separate rooms that morning filling each one out and then sat with coffee and pie, as they worked through what did and didn’t match up. 

“Pretty sure this pie is some kind of bribery for me to stay.” 

"You're not supposed to know my secrets!" Castiel hisses with mirth then takes a forkful of the cherry pie and steers it towards Dean's mouth.

Somehow the pie tastes better from Cas' fork and Dean makes a note to add handfeeding to their lists. 

Dean signs off his paperwork in his usual scrawl signature and then swaps with Castiel. He eyes the signature at the bottom, impressed with how loopy it is. 

"Yeah, Cas, I'll kneel for you," Dean replies and he feels his cheeks flush.

Castiel leans forward and presses his lips to Dean's and it feels nice, soft and warm. 

With a swoop, the papers are stacked, slotted into a box file and then clasped shut. "Done."

Dean grins. 

"Before we go any further," Castiel looks at his watch. "We have about an hour to work on your shoulder exercises."

Dean groans, but nods and follows Castiel into the living room. He watched him pull a yoga mat out from besides a cabinet and lays it out in the middle of the carpet. 

"Kneel in the centre, please," Castiel instructs. A little fuzzy ball fills Dean's stomach and his head begins to buzz. 

"Yes, sir." Dean drops to his knees and sets his eyes high as he watches Castiel cross the room towards him. Dean would be good for Castiel and Castiel would cherish Dean. It was like Cas had said, when Alastair had come to pick on him again. 

_ Dean deserves to be cherished _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who's been reading! I hope you enjoyed this! :D 
> 
> Here is the [manip masterpost](https://envydean.tumblr.com/post/186775097590) for your viewing pleasuring and reblogging! (note: the top image is cropped due to tumblr's nsfw rules) 
> 
> The summary I based this fic on is as follows:
> 
> **By His Rules**  
Aiden Cole can be anything men want—naughty schoolboy, palace slave, virgin twink, or slutty secretary. He's a gifted actor with a gorgeous body who gives legendary head. Aiden could have his pick of any Top in the local leather bar, but is drawn to Scott Runge—a cruel, sexy Dom who pushes Aiden to his limits, allowing Aiden to experience the excitement and danger of the BDSM lifestyle to a degree he never has before. But when Scott goes too far, injuring Aiden, Aiden withdraws from the scene completely. Until he meets Keaton Hughes.
> 
> Keaton's looking for something he can't find in any dungeon: A domestic discipline relationship, in which he can provide his partner with guidance, support, and loving discipline. When Keaton takes Aiden in after Aiden's traumatic encounter with Scott, he vows not to pursue any sort of relationship with the troubled sub. But as Aiden struggles to overcome the damage Scott has done and get his life back on track, Keaton's rules might be just what he needs.  



End file.
